


Reflections

by Quizzical



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quizzical/pseuds/Quizzical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looked back to the mirror. Arthur's long limbs entwined around her soft round body. It wasn't the image that people would think of as 'sexy' but she thought they were beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at The Quidditch Pitch in 2007.
> 
> Thanks to **LouHQ** for the super fast beta
> 
> And as usual, thanks to **mapleandmahogany** for her patience and feedback.

Molly Weasley was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom. The afternoon light was shining through the window, illuminating her profile. She turned slightly - maintaining eye contact with her reflection - and watched the changing angle move the highlights that danced over her once bright hair. She had kept it long all these years, and wore it bundled up on top of her head in a soft bun. She released the charm that held it in place and it tumbled down her back. There was more grey than red, or even gold, now.

  
It had been beautiful once.

  
Her eyes slipped shut as she remembered the way Arthur had stuttered and choked out his compliments of it, the first time he'd held her in his arms. He'd wrapped her waist with one arm, and let the other hand stroke her hair; starting at the crown of her head and slowly sliding down, over her shoulder, her back, dipping in and out at her hip and finishing just at the top of her bottom.

  
His had been lovely, too. A different shade of red. Less copper and more fire. They'd joked about one day having a family full of red headed children. And so they had.

  
She opened her eyes again and took in her outline. So different to how it had been that day, down by the lake at Hogwarts. She had worn modest robes - never one to flaunt herself - but had been slim. Never particularly pretty, but she had clear pale skin and was athletic and strong. Ginny was quite the image of her.

  
"There's a comfort," her daughter always muttered when she pointed that out.

  
She would chuckle and glare good naturedly at her, chide her to remember she'd had six pregnancies, and borne and nurtured seven babies. She wasn't as bad as all that, considering!

  
But it stung.

  
More even than Ron moaning, "Ewww! Mum! Stop it!" and stomping out of the room, hands firmly planted over his ears whenever a reference was made to her courting days. He was a young man. She supposed it was only right that a boy wasn't to think of his mother in those terms. But surely he could acknowledge that she had been his age, once upon a time!

  
Arthur was never one for being overly flirtatious in public. He was far too shy for that. But he was an affectionate man, and all of the children had walked in on them at least once in their lives, and witnessed them involved in something more than just an embrace. He would kiss her chastely in full view of all, but if their lips met for more than a moment a chorus of horror would be heard from which ever children were in view.

  
They were all informed, of course. And as she'd said to Percy after he Flooed in to the Burrow early for lunch and discovered her and Arthur taking advantage of the empty house, "Well, what do you think happened? We didn't get you by owl order from the Magical Menagerie!"

  
Maybe she hoped for more solidarity from the younger women in the family. Her daughter. The daughters-in-law. They would all get old one day, too. They would all deal with accepting themselves as their bodies changed. Wondering if their partner accepted them, still wanted them. They too would one day be standing in front of a mirror and wondering who this person looking back at them was. Maybe that was why they found it so difficult to acknowledge the connection. Not wanting to recognise in Molly something of what they would become.

~*~

Arthur was standing in the doorway. She had no way of knowing how long he had been watching her. Had he been watching as she slipped off her robes and ran her hands down over her breasts, her stomach, hips? She felt foolish thinking of how she'd turned to the side and sucked her tummy in, cupped her breasts through her slip and lifted them up, trying to picture what they had looked like, once upon a time. Before gravity and pregnancy and small mouths and hands had all left their mark.

  
Molly ducked her head down, feeling her face flush, as Arthur walked over to stand behind her.

  
He let his hands rest on her shoulders.

  
"What a beautiful sight to come home to." His fingers traced down her arms and he bent to press his lips against the curve of her neck.

  
"I wasn't admiring myself." How could she be feeling so vulnerable? They had no secrets. Her thoughts were her own, but she happily shared them with him. And those she didn't speak, she knew he guessed anyway.

  
"I'm admiring you." Their eyes met in the mirror.

  
"I'm not what I once was ..."

  
"You're as beautiful as you ever were." Arthur's hands slid around her waist. One curved around her hip, the other mirrored her earlier actions and cupped her breast. "Beautiful."

  
When his hand stroked over her stomach, she relaxed her head back, leaning it on his shoulder. She used to think he was only admiring the form. The flat stomach, firm muscles under taut skin. And yes, that was lovely, but now she realised that he also wanted to _touch_ her. To feel that close. That... _connected_. The sensation of skin sliding against his palm meant just as much, maybe more, than being able to look.

  
Molly remembered the time just after Bill had been born. She'd felt so insecure. When she saw Arthur's eye settle on a slim, young witch. When Rosmerta would lean across the table to set down their pints. The jealousy would sit, bitter, in her stomach. She'd want to lash out. She thought that if Arthur thought she was beautiful, if he loved her, if her more modest bust was enough for him, why would he look?

  
She'd made peace with that over the years. Her own experience with unexpected attraction - when she'd first met Kingsley - had brought home to her the difference between her eye being drawn to someone, and an actual desire to live out the fantasy. Kingsley had fascinated her. Images had invaded her mind. What would it be like to see her pale hand resting over that dark glossy skin? She had realised she'd never want to actually _do_ that. Ever. Arthur meant more to her than any opportunity to discover if someone else could arouse her as he did.

  
So Molly had learnt to trust Arthur. There had been that awful time after the twins were born when she'd felt surrounded by a dark cloud. Too tired to have energy for anything but getting through each day. Arthur had tried so hard. Worked so hard. He'd kept his voice gentle to her, taken on more of the care of the other children. But they hadn't made love for months, and when she'd seen him talking to a witch from work she'd thought her heart would break into a thousand pieces that no _Reparo_ could fix. His assurances - _Never Molly. I would never stray from you._ \- had soothed her, but she knew it had flattered him to be flirted with. She couldn't blame him for that. He was a lovely looking man. Not overly handsome or athletic, but his eyes were so warm, and his hands were gentle. He had knelt with his face in her lap, arms around her waist. _"I miss you, Mollywobbles. I need you."_

  
Arthur was kissing his way up her neck, nuzzling his nose behind her ear. His hand gently stroking over her breast, giving the softest of attentions to her nipple. Molly rolled her head to the side, opening more skin to his attentions, and watched their reflections in the mirror. The pale light made it easy for a moment to think she saw them as they had been. The curves with sharper lines, the hair brighter. She remembered how hesitant Arthur was at first. As though he really couldn't believe he was allowed to touch her. She had giggled and blushed, not sure if she was supposed to be finding quite so much pleasure in the sensations of his hands exploring her body.

  
Molly felt her husband step back for a moment and knew that he was sliding his own robes off. She heard the soft _klmp_ of shoes being removed and pushed aside. His hands came to her shoulders and started to slide the straps of her slip down. Her eyes flicked over to the curtains. "There's no-one home. Not a broom in sight." She chuckled slightly. He knew her so well. Knew that she was fretting over getting caught.

  
The thin straps slipped down and caught at her elbows. Molly straightened her arms and the soft cotton floated down to the floor. Arthur peeled her pants off at the same time and she was naked. There was more rustling behind her as Arthur removed the rest of his clothes, and then Molly felt his warm presence curve behind her again. He held her against his chest, one arm wrapping around and up, to cradle her face in his hand. In their reflection, she could see him watch as his thumb stroked over her cheek.

  
Soft hairs tickled her palms as Molly caressed Arthur's legs, holding his thighs to press back against him. She could feel the slight twitch and pulse of his length as she rolled her hips in a small circle, pressing up on her toes. It was a comforting and familiar bulge against her lower back, nestling pleasantly into the top of the cleft of her bottom.

  
"Hmmm ..." Arthur breathed out in a soft sigh.

  
Their bodies glowed in the half light - Arthur's with a touch of gold, hers a hint of blue. She watched the muscles in his legs flex and ripple. One of his hands trailed down her side, tracing her silhouette. His fingers came into contact with the wispy curls of her womanhood and crept over, threading lightly through, not quite touching the mound underneath. Fingertips moved lower, tracing shapes on her thighs, stroking down, and then returning to comb the hair, repeating the cycle over and over. There was no hurry. Molly knew that Arthur would take his time, priding himself on how long he could draw out the gradual descent into passion.

  
Her neck was starting to ache so she straightened her head up and shuffled forward. Arthur followed her and leant over with her as she placed her hands on the chair near the dressing table. His hand continued to stroke and weave, applying a little more pressure. At the same time his other hand was teasing around her nipples, swapping from one to the other, remembering to pass underneath her breasts as they hung forward. He knew how sensitive the rarely stimulated skin was.

  
Molly could feel him becoming firmer, hear him breathing - carefully slow. She swayed her hips more deliberately from side to side and closed her eyes as his lips pressed against her shoulder. He chuckled into her skin. The hand at her breast slid down and around to her back, smoothing over freckles on its way. Molly braced herself as she felt his weight shift to the side, and then she felt his length, almost fully hard slip between her legs, nudging forward. She opened her stance and tilted her hips allowing the tip to dip between her lips, before sliding back and then up through the curls. Arthur's long fingers reached down and held himself more firmly against her, pressing with precise skill to increase her arousal. Molly began moving her hips with more purpose, knowing that Arthur would follow her forward and not allow her to lose contact at the wrong moment.

  
Arthur was murmuring into her neck.

  
Molly loved the contrast between the silky, gentle caresses of the hand on her back, hips, bottom, shoulders and the firm, hard pressure at her centre. She could feel the pathway of movement becoming slick as their patience was rewarded with natural arousal. She enjoyed it so much more than using a lubrication charm. The charm seemed such a quick fix to her, when this was so rewarding to take their time. Learn what touches or movements would make Arthur twitch and leak. What combination of touch and affection could cause her own body to become moist and open, building the burning ache that _longed_ for him to enter her. So much better than her being rushed, him having to hold back, imagine himself away so that he could last. This way she was ready and eager to climax.

  
The tip of his penis nudged inside her, for a quick moment and then popped out again, resuming its slide _forward, back_. She looked back to the mirror. Arthur's long limbs entwined around her soft round body. It wasn't the image that people would think of as 'sexy' but she thought they were beautiful. She couldn't look and be disappointed, or disgusted at her enjoyment of what they were doing. They were beautiful together and they enjoyed each other. What could possibly be so awful with that?

  
Another experimental dip inside. Molly took a deep breath of anticipation, and then sighed, low and rich, "Mmm ..." She always loved that first deep thrust. Her head lowered. Arthur's arm was wrapped around her hip to the front. His thumb caressed her nub as his fingers guided the head of his erection into her. They both loved this angle. The extra friction and tension made up for the loosening of her inner walls, brought on by the years. Arthur stood up straighter and held her hips with both hands. He met her eyes in their reflection as she looked up through the wisps of her hair that hung over her forehead.

  
"I love you like this," he murmured as his hands trailed over her skin, his thumbs stroking along the cleft of her bottom. Molly closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation inside her as he gently spread her cheeks apart with an appreciative moan at the sight before him. When she was younger, Molly could never let go and let him do this. She was worried that her hips were too wide. If she looked fat. If he thought less of her for being so wanton; for _enjoying_ herself so much. But now she knew how much that meant to him. Built _him_ up to know he could have that effect on her.

  
Arthur was beginning to move with more purpose now. Molly removed one hand from the chair in front of her, missing the specific pressure at her centre that she would need to reach completion. His thrust propelled her forward with a soft, "Whff", onto her forearm and chest.

  
"Sorry, dear. Bed?" His hands caught her carefully, and when she nodded over her shoulder, guided her the few steps to their low, wide bed. Arthur took off his glasses and placed them carefully next to the reading lamp. They lay down, spooned together. She shifted her upper leg forward and Arthur deftly slid back into her. He leant up on one elbow and bent over to kiss her cheek. His movements were slow again, as they regained the momentum they'd lost. Molly looked up at her husband and returned his tender smile. He stroked her hair and cupped her cheek, kissing her again, before tucking his hand over her thigh, and starting to move his index and middle finger in a circle over her clitoris.

  
Molly closed her eyes and concentrated on the building pleasure as the speed of the circling fingers increased. Arthur read her breathy gasps, knowing exactly when to pick up the pace. A tingling jolt washed over Molly as he added a sideways flick to the driving of his hips. The combination of inner and outer stimulation finally took Molly to the edge of her control and she held her breath for a moment before succumbing to the wave of orgasm, rippling out from her centre and over her entire body.

  
"Aah ..." she sighed happily as the sensation died down.

  
Taking a deep breath, she reached her arm back, crossed over Arthur's and pulled him closer, swaying backward and forward to catch the echoes of her climax and urge Arthur towards his own.

  
She felt him give three or four quick, hard thrusts. There was a pause, almost enough for her to think something was wrong, and then one deep _press_ in. She held herself still, as close to him as she could be, and then all of the pressure dissipated as he shuddered through his release.

  
"Delicious."

  
Molly chuckled warmly at him as he sagged over her, kissing her shoulder and then flopped back onto the bed behind her.

  
"Good day?" she asked.

  
"Not bad." Arthur stretched and retrieved his glasses and his wand, courteously casting a gentle cleaning charm over them both, before lying back down and picking up her hand. "You?"

  
"Productive. Hungry?"

  
"Very!"

  
Molly twisted over her shoulder to kiss Arthur on the nose. He was balding, and his pale skin had dry patches that flaked in the cold weather. But he looked at her with eyes that knew her; warts and all; and thought her beautiful. Their wedding photograph was hanging on the wall next to the bed. She was slimmer, it was true, and her face was unwrinkled. Arthur had more hair. The younger Molly bit her lip and glanced shyly at her brand new husband.

  
Sometimes she missed being young. Missed the excitement of having her life ahead of her, but lying here now she felt complete and satisfied.

  
"I love you, Arthur."

  
Arthur turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised. His face softened and he smiled, that private smile that no one but her had ever seen.

  
"And I love you, my Molly." They wriggled over until they were facing each other and could kiss properly. "I love my Mollywobbles."

  
Molly giggled and looked away.

  
"Oh, Arthur!"

~*~

  


  


  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

  


This story archived at <http://www.thequidditchpitch.org/viewstory.php?sid=5281>  



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